Comments Posted By ella
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You want me to write about the wind. you want me to write about the wind, the one that lifted me off my feet and carried me through Singapore even though I’ve never actually been to Singapore. So I’m not going to write about the wind. I’m going to write about the soft smell of acid creeping through the cracks of the walls inside my head, instead.
» Posted By ella On 08.26.2014 @ 6:10 am
the feel of his hands were coarse against my soft, tiny ones. His were big, his pinky curling itself around my thumb, feeling the spaces in between and the lines crisscrossing pale skin. the bonfire lot our faces up yellow, adolescent acne and premature wrinkles of worry.
» Posted By Ella On 07.29.2014 @ 6:44 pm
the canned laughter is ripping through the insides of my ears
and there is blood dripping down my neck
which you kiss, ruby red
it’s falling on to this hard laminate tile
where we pad into the kitchen
the only light
is the clock of the microwave oven
and we dance
our callouses form
you and me
in the dark of the kitchen
» Posted By Ella On 07.28.2014 @ 5:25 pm
The chestnut trees were all she could think of. It reminded her of him, his chestnut hair and eyes.
Finally her arms reached up to take down the picture.
» Posted By ella On 05.10.2014 @ 4:09 pm
they told me i was special. they measured my limbs and stretched me out but they pulled too tight and stretched too thin and now i’m just a lanky mess of bones. they told me my hair was shiny, and that they could take me places i’d never seen before. i’ve only ever been on a plane to canberra, once when i was 14 and we went there for a school trip.
» Posted By ella On 03.24.2014 @ 6:04 am
Mark watched as the intern stumbled over his too big feet and sent the papers in his arms flying in all directions. The boy toppled to the side, but scrambled back to his feet.
“Sorry, sir,” said the intern.
“Not a problem,” Mark lied. Annoyance mixed with apathy. “Just pick them up.”
The boy did so, then set the abused paperwork on Mark’s desk. He nervously fixed his dorky bowtie, paying to mind to his rumbled dress shirt.
He probably only has the one dress shirt, thought Mark. It hangs in his closet right next to his graduation gown.
“Stupid boy,” Mark muttered, bitterly as his smoothed a paper needing his signature. “Stupid boy,” he repeated, but no one cared.
» Posted By ella On 02.28.2014 @ 7:44 am
The flag waved up high above him. It was a stupid joke. “Just boys being boys,” said the headmaster when he protested the treatment. “Nothing bad will happen.”
Only something bad did happen. Jake can feel his toes or his knees or even his fingers. He’s staring up at the flag and the flagpole watching, but not quite seeing. He can just make out the sounds of the other, older and bigger, boys starting to speak.
Shuffling bodies and stomping feet. Discomfort flitted through the group and the Jake on the ground.
“…should just leave!”
Then a voice, louder and horror-struck. “Look at his neck!”
Cries of terror and revulsion follow this pronouncement. The boys scatter in a small storm of of heavy feet.
All the while Jake stares up at the striped flag fluttering in the early morning wind until he can stare no more. His eyes are wide, mouth is half open and he doesn’t try to move.
» Posted By ella On 02.20.2014 @ 8:31 am
He is just so creepy. This guy, he stares at me whenever I happen to be near him. He just so happens to go to my supermarket, so I see him alot. It really offsets me.
» Posted By Ella On 02.14.2014 @ 10:14 pm
With my hands stuck together I can’t open the door. But basic social conventions are unknown to Morris and he strides in, slamming the door behind him. I glare at him over the counter top, I’m not quite visible from his vantage point in the hall, but I hear him clomping over to me.
He grin, big and wide when he reaches the kitchen. Morris spots the mixing bowl and his grin stretches even farther across his face. I wonder how his mouth hasn’t broken yet.
He snatches up the bowl, but his fingers stick to the sides and he can’t steal any. Just as well, I think, watching him struggle as I run hot water over my own hands. If he had any, he’d glue his mouth shut.
What a tragedy that would be.
» Posted By ella On 01.24.2014 @ 12:11 pm
the moss covered the log with such intensity it was unbearable. Hijacked the wood with no remorse and no apparent concern for the outcome. The lush green moisture cascaded down the Forrest path unbemused and becoming to the surrounding foliage. The weed worked magic over the woods that even the smallest of rabbit holes was obscured from view. Even the toughest of plants couldn’t fight it’s grip. It’s magical enchanting grip. The expert worker pulled weed after weed but the moss he couldn’t touch. The magic captivated him and showed him that not all the forest was lacking. Not all things that spread with such speed need to be removed. Not all that is covering is unpleasant and not all that is unwanted is unneeded. Like all things moss must grow. Like all things it retains something. Not just it’s moisture but it’s essence. The pure nature of itself and what it provides for the world. So too should humans do.
» Posted By Ella On 01.10.2014 @ 7:35 pm
The gun pointed towards my face. I let out a small scream. “I could of used a sniper” he smirked into my left ear. “But I wanted to be close when I killed you”
Sweat dripped down my face.
» Posted By Ella On 01.03.2014 @ 6:42 pm
He watches the girl as she passes through the crowd. She’s tall with long bottle blonde hair and a thin waist and pale fingers that have never seen hard work. Just before he turns away he notices her old worn out shoes that clash magnificently against her designer dress.
» Posted By ella On 12.28.2013 @ 7:58 am
I’m standing by my window, pack of wintery window stickers in my hands, when something outside catches my eye. I squint, determined to get a better glimpse of it.
» Posted By Ella On 12.18.2013 @ 11:20 am
Jason laughed and snatched the wreath from his mother’s hand. He bounded up to the front door and hung it up carefully from a bent nail. Humming a Christmas carol under his breath he gave the woman a jaunty wave before setting out into the snowy streets. He didn’t seem to mind the cold and vibrated with easy energy. He started to run, then faster and faster until he was out of sight.
» Posted By Ella On 12.16.2013 @ 6:23 am
The boy stared. What was it for? The mechanism loomed over the city, glaring at him with sightless eyes.
» Posted By Ella On 12.10.2013 @ 1:59 pm
He leaned forward to snatch the device from Langon’s hand. He fiddled with the delicate mechanisms of the Mapmaker for a long moment. We held our breath.
“Done!” Morris declared with a grin, waving the Mapmaker like a great baton. “It’s fixed!”
» Posted By ella On 12.09.2013 @ 3:01 pm
I stand half hidden behind a line of taller girls. I shiver in the cool air and the dim morning sun burns my eyes after being trapped in the darkness. The tall thin man leans on his black umbrella and points at each girl one by one, beckoning the chosen girl to step forward. He scrutinizes a girl with long brown hair, freckles and a long thin noes. He turns away and points the umbrella at the next girl in line. I’m next, I think, but I don’t know what he wants.
» Posted By ella On 12.07.2013 @ 12:35 pm
He speaks, puffed up and pompous, long and winded without really saying anything. Her eyes drift to the side and out and open window. She gazes at little robin bird that pecks at the dirt, his bright red feathers contrasted against the brown dirt path.
» Posted By ella On 12.05.2013 @ 8:44 pm
I’m running down the tunnel. Past bright lights on my left and the cars on my right. My breath is uneven now, but I push forward. I’m nearly at the end. I stumble out into the cool night air. I peer through the darkness, but I don’t see anyone behind me.
» Posted By ella On 12.13.2013 @ 6:59 am
The trumpets burst into the sky with their noise and the musicians played them like they were their souls.
» Posted By Ella On 11.30.2013 @ 9:40 pm
I say nothing. He keeps prattling on and on, but nothing is ever really said. The noise builds and builds and rattles around in my head. I ignore him and drop to my knees. I fall to the floor where the body was found. My left ear is pricked by a splinter from the hardwood floor. My eye stare in front of me without really seeing. I imagine I see a splatter of blood. I imagine I can her last breath. But all I see is his mouth moving and all I hear is him talking. Talking. Talking. Hot tear burn my dry eyes. I inhale dust. I blink the tears away.
» Posted By ella On 11.20.2013 @ 10:20 am
Sometimes, I wish that the world and its stresses and temptations and expectations did not trample upon me each day like a stampede of thoughts, into my head, then out of my head, and onto my back, around my chest, and on my heart. It sucks. I really want to be great. I really want to be free.
» Posted By Ella On 10.14.2013 @ 3:12 pm
Dots. There were dots clouding her vision, dancing around and taunting her like the fireflies she could never catch as a kid. Murmurs left her lips as she tried to blink away the harsh light, yet to no avail, her eyes were burning against her lids and there was a hand on her shoulder, pulling her upwards and out of hell.
» Posted By Ella On 07.25.2013 @ 1:11 pm
message colorful lively lovely kid free can fly can go to heaven. I want one rght now. we have a balloon at our room they are white with messages a
» Posted By ella On 06.28.2013 @ 11:10 pm
circus flowers legs tall wood uncle sam america clowns pants men curls hair skyscraper twin towers blue windows pirate ship
» Posted By ella On 06.23.2013 @ 6:42 pm
i don’t know the meaning of this word. I should. I don’t know the meaning of anything much. It rhymes with drought. does it mean hitting someone? it feels negative and disturbing. it feels uncomfortable. as do i, with an english degree and no understanding of the meaning of this word. maybe it describes me.
» Posted By Ella On 05.24.2013 @ 5:39 am
the loom was broken, broken into pieces. the shattered wood was thrown about the floor in an uneven pattern, like a child had just thrown a tantrum. it was the remains of a family, the remains of what had been clumsily sewn together. the loom was irreparable, and so were they.
» Posted By Ella On 05.11.2013 @ 10:05 am
Anita had many stories accumluated over her travels. One didn’t spend years on the road as a pokemon trainer travelling hither and yonder without stumbling across some rather dubious and amusing things.
» Posted By Ella On 05.06.2013 @ 9:06 pm
there was once an old man who owned a city pawn shop. the thieves and crooks of the night would bring their stolen golden treasures to His old shack of a store hoping to receive some cash for the stolen goods. the man had been about this business for quite some time indeed. he often doubted his own credibility for who in their right mind would put faith in a man with a profession like his. he regarded his work no higher than he regarded the dirty work of the rogues who walked through the squeaky door at the dead of night.
» Posted By Ella On 05.04.2013 @ 9:52 pm
Back To Stats Page
The ability to prove yourself using facts, hard data. Unquestionable logic that lends its hands to your words and work. Credibility is the difference between being a loony or a genius.The difference between being locked out in the dismissive cold and sitting by the fire of the belief of others,even if it’s just one.
» Posted By ella On 05.04.2013 @ 11:51 am